Pride centered in his burning eye, Pride mantled on his brow; “Who ever stood the clouds so nigh?” Ah! he has climbed a step too high! For giddily, bewilderingly, His brain is whirling now. But ever that pure Watcher bright Pleads softly in his ear, “Think, mortal, of the coming night! Think of the mildew and the blight; Think of thy ransomed spirit’s light, Dimmed by thy dallying here!” He hears, and lo! his pulses wild Are hushed, and in his veins The riot ebbs; things which beguiled, Seem heaps of mist about him piled; He bends his knee, a little child, And tears efface his stains. PART III. The babe, the youth, was bent and gray, A feeble man and old; Death stood beside him as he lay; No mourner there his breath would stay, Or guide him on his untrod way, When lip and heart were cold. He loved, had served the God of heaven, But death’s a fearful thing: And when all earth-wrought ties are riven, When back to dust the dust is given, The soul which long with sin has striven, May shrink to meet the King. He trusted; but still shivering clung, Where long he’d been a guest; Meanwhile death-pangs his bosom wrung; The scared soul on the hushed lip hung, Then lay, soft wings about it flung, Upon the Angel’s breast. * * * * * SCENES THAT ARE BRIGHTEST. POPULAR SONG FROM MARITANA. COMPOSED BY W. V. WALLACE. PRESENTED BY J. G. OSBOURN, NO. 112 SOUTH THIRD STREET, PHILAD’A. [Illustration: musical score] Scenes that are brightest May charm awhile; Hearts which are lightest, And eyes that smile; Yet [Illustration: musical score] o’er them, above us, Tho’ nature beam, With none to love us, How sad They seem, With none to love us, How sad they seem. Second Verse. Words cannot scatter The thoughts we fear; For though they flatter, They mock the ear. Hopes will still deceive us With tearful cost, ||:And when they leave us The heart is lost!:|| * * * * * THE STRICKEN. BY ROBT. T. CONRAD. Turn thou unto me, and have mercy upon me; for I am desolate and in misery. Psalms.